Perchance To Awaken
by Soxman
Summary: Harry Potter had come to expect many things from life. What he hadn't come to expect is waking up one morning to his mother's cooking. And there's probably a good reason for that...


AN: Just recently, I have begun re-watching one of my favorite shows, Batman: The Animated Series. Anyway, a certain episode –if you're familiar with it should become clear- inspired me to write this Harry Potter one-shot. I don't own Batman or Harry Potter and I hope you all enjoy. Oh, and if you are curious about the episode in question, I've named it at the bottom.

"Perchance To Awaken"

Harry turned over in his bed, consciousness slowly returning to him, despite how he wished he could simply continue dreaming. He felt the softness of his sheets, the coolness of his pillow. Even though his eyes were closed, due to the merry chirping of the birds outside, he could almost see the bright golden sunlight that must be pouring into his room. Why did he have to vacate his bed on a beautiful day like this? Well, at least Ron hadn't provided a rude awakeni-

"Come down to breakfast, Harry! And bring your sister with you!" A cheery female voice called out.

Harry's eyes snapped open. What? ...That wasn't Ron. Ron obviously didn't sound anything like a woman. Unless Fred and George were pranking him; then he was known to let off a high-pitched scream from time to time. He quickly rolled over and threw off the covers. His sense of confusion was only heightened when he began gazing around the room. This… this wasn't his Four-Poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. And… and this wasn't his Dorm room. It was a nice room, granted, with two small windows feeding in rays of golden sun, and cool blue wallpaper layering the walls. Or was that paint? And there was a nice highly polished desk right next to a bookcase loaded with books- comics, almanacs, textbooks- all done up in fine Oak. He finally got up and made his way over to the wardrobe. He could figure out what the devil was going on after he'd found some proper clothes; he didn't fancy doing any investigating in his pajamas. The wooden floor was rather cool, after all.

He pulled open the wardrobe and experimentally pulled out one of the shirts, comparing it to his torso. Shrugging, he pulled it on and grabbed a pair of jeans and found clothes that seemed to fit him perfectly. With that accomplished, he left his dirty clothes on the floor, never noticing the portrait depicting a Stag, Wolf, Dog, and Rat hanging above his door. Seeing nothing keeping him here… wherever 'here' was… Harry decided to just get out of this place and figure out what was going on. However, as he passed the kitchen- why was the delicious smell of bacon wafting from there?- He heard a voice call out to him. Curious, and slightly hungry, Harry approached cautiously.

"Good morning, Harry. Did you get your sister?" Harry froze in the doorstep as a beautiful woman with blazing red-hair casually asked him that while she poured over the stove. At the table, a man with messy black hair distractedly turned the page on the Daily Prophet as he reached for a piece of toast. Neither of them seemed to notice his open-mouthed shock. Who the bloody hell were these people?

"Um… no," He answered distractedly. Sister? What sister? He didn't have a sister… not that his Aunt and Uncle would have let him know even if he did, mind you. But still, his family was dead; Boy-Who-Lived and all that. At least that was what all the history books, professor Dumbledore, Hagrid, his Head of House, and his Aunt and Uncle seemed to think. Could they be… no, that was rather silly. They were dead. Fact. He knew that. So who were these people? Where was he? And why were they sitting around so casually, like… like…Oh. He stared from the women's smiling face as she turned to look at him, her bright green eyes, to the man's messy hair, his thick glasses as his finally noticed his wife was distracted.

"Well get her up!" His… mother ordered. No, even though he said it, he quickly clamped down on the idea. No. He remembered the long fire-red hair, the eyes, so similar to his own, like looking into a mirror, as if he were staring at this moment into the Mirror of Erised. "It does _not do_-

"Lils, calm down! So she's having a bit of a lie-in," The man… his father reasoned. She turned and glared at him. He withered slightly under her glare. "I know you want to get to the Alley but-" The rest was drowned out as Harry took in his features. Messy black hair the exact same color as his own, the familiar glasses, the uncaring posture… James Potter. He glanced back at the woman as she tore into him. Lily Potter. His parents.

His deepest desire. Because it was something he could never know; the love of his parents. It was just a dream; the sweetest of dreams, to be sure! But that was what Professor Dumbledore had told him. "_It does not do to dwell on dreams_." That was exactly it. Even if the dream in question was as beautiful as a song barely remembered. Because they were dead. Except… they were in front of him now… "I'll go get her," He replied quickly, moving away, sure that the illusion would dissipate in his absence. He couldn't bear the sight anymore. Something was clearly wrong. Everyone said they were… they were dead. And yet… _Flowing red hair, untidy jet black hair, so like his own, eyes the exactsame color as his own, both smiling at him_… They couldn't be…

"Hurry up, Harry!" Nope it was an illusion, he thought as he robotically head up the stairs. Hermoine had once mentioned them when she was rambling about one of the little tidbits that had gotten her extra points on her charms assignment. It was an illusion… it had to be. Even if it felt… it just felt so real! Once on the landing, it certainly felt like a hardwood floor- no, it was an illusion!-, he walked a few paces- how did he know where to go?- before he paused at a door and knocked a couple of times. 'Please don't answer. Please don't answer. Please don't answer.' He had no idea what he'd do if-

The door cracked open and a girl with a familiar mane of red-hair and brown eyes, though she was clearly shorter than him, poked her head out of the crack of the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Tell Mum I'll be down in a minute, Harry!" The little girl commanded hurriedly before she shut the door again.

For the second time in a few minutes, Harry's brain shut down. What? That girl… she looked so much like his mother. And she… she seemed to know him. How did she know him? They'd never met before? And… who was she? C-could it be? "_It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry_." The voice of the Headmaster pointed out once more, as if the man himself were whispering in his ear. But… but what if it wasn't a dream? No, no- ridiculous. His parents had died when he was one. He didn't have a sister. He was supposed to be the Boy-Who-Lived! This was an illusion. A trick. It simply couldn't be real. _"But it could be if you just let go,"_ A voice whispered enticingly in his ear as Harry whipped around. _"It doesn't have to be an illusion,"_ The voice pointed out softly as Harry noticed that his heart was pounding against his chest.

He'd lived with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon at Number Four. Because his parents were dead. Because he didn't have a sister. "_Then who were those people making breakfast, and that girl getting dressed in the room next to yours?"_ A sly voice whispered in his ear. It was almost like… almost like the Mirror had dumped him into the world where his deepest desire was being fulfilled!

The Mirror!? Why did it keep coming back to the Mirror? Why had it always had such a great effect on him? Did it work differently for him than anyone else in history? Or… or… or maybe-

"You didn't have to wait for me," His sister pointed out. He hadn't realized that he'd stayed standing in front of her door. "Well, come on, Harry. I'm hungry." He stayed staring at her, taking in her hair, her eyes. She shook her head. "You're acting kind of creepy Harry. We can play Quidditch after breakfast Harry, if that's what this is about." She paused a second. "Oh right, the Alley. Well afterwards, then," She said with a bit of a pout on her face. Harry shook his head and began automatically following her back to the kitchen. 'It's a trip! It's a TRAP!' He thought as he robotically

She walked in, and Harry stood once more on the doorstep, treating it as if it were a barrier, as if his moving past it meant… meant… that he'd given in to the illusion. Because it was an illusion, he realized sadly.

The Mirror kept popping up in his thoughts, and he realized the last thing he remembered before he woke up here was... the Mirror! Because he had been staring at it again. In the middle of the chamber, where the Stone… The Stone… Voldemort! He remembered, he finally remembered… the Forbidden Corridor… Fluffy… The Stone… Flamel… Voldemort!

Shaking his head, knowing that as much as he wanted this to be real, wanted them to be here, it wasn't, and would never be, Harry backed up and turned away, heading for the door. "Harry? Harry! Harry!?" He could hear his mother calling out to him. Then his sister. Then his father… no, he could hear the illusion calling out to him. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but Harry walked to the door, pulled it open, and forced his way through, all the while ignoring the shouting after him.

* * *

Slowly, Harry ambled off the Knight Bus, the conductor staring at his back. He remembered back to once when Seamus was talking about how he and his mother always went shopping. He mentioned something called the Knight Bus, where Wizards and Witches paid for transportation around the Isle. He looked around; the conductor had laughed off his request to head to Hogwarts and instead dropped him off nearby at someplace called Hogsmeade. Getting up to the castle might be tricky, he thought as the Bus rocketed away.

A figure robed in black walked up to him. "Harry Potter?" Suspiciously, his hand on his wand, ready for the draw, Harry nodded slightly. "Would you follow me please? I hold the answers that you seek."

Harry withdrew his wand. Not that it would do him any good; he barely knew any spells. "Do you? And what answers could I possibly seek?" He asked quietly, sizing up the figure before him.

"You believe you are trapped in an illusion. You seek a way out. I am here to provide you with answers," They replied. "If you will just follow me."

Not as if he had any choice. "Fine then. Lead on."

The figure turned on their heel and walked to a nearby shop. With a snap of their fingers, the door burst open, and Harry quickly followed the figure into the deserted shop, and then down the flight of stairs leading to their backrooms. It walked over to a dirty old stone and pried it aside, revealing another staircase. Beckoning Harry forward, the robed figure started down the newly revealed stairs.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked from behind the figure as they moved up the deserted passage. "Where are you leading me?"

"To the answers you seek," The figure replied cryptically. "Back to where this all started."

Though he was dissatisfied with the answer he had received, Harry continued to follow the figure as they reached another set of stairs, this one sloping upwards, and began their long climb. After what felt like hours of just walking and staring suspiciously at the mysterious person in front of him, they reached the top and exited out the other entrance, which was apparently a statue of a Hump-backed witch.

"We're close," The figure declared as it turned. "Just a little longer."

They made their way through the castle's deserted corridors, back… back to where it all began. They were headed back to the Forbidden Corridor! With another snap of their fingers, the figure opened the door and walked through.

Harry followed them, past Fluffy's decaying corpse complete with spatters of blood, down the trapdoor and past the burning decays of the stupid plant that had nearly suffocated him and Ron, past the key room, where the keys fluttered through the air no more, past the chessboard, with the pieces on both sides reduced to nothing more than hunks of rocks, past the still dead troll, past the upturned table, broken glass, and burnt ashes of the logic puzzle, and back… back to where it all began.

The figure walked into the room, and stood in front of the unbroken mirror. Before they disappeared from view. Harry stared at the stop where his guide had been only seconds before. And then a new figure reappeared.

"Hello Harry," Hissed the face stuck to the back of his Defense Professor's head. "I see you wish to talk."

"What… what have you done?" Harry snarled, more bravely than he actually felt.

Lord Voldemort laughed; a cold, chilling laugh. "Don't you remember, Harry? I simply completed our bargain. I gave you what you asked for," He chuckled darkly, as Harry felt his wand suddenly disappear.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked shrilly, unnerved by the psycho's laughter. And then he stepped aside, and the Mirror came into view. And then images appeared… familiar images.

_"All I require is that little Stone in your pocket." He paused. "Give it to me, Harry. Give it to me, and I can offer you that which you have only dreamed of." Another pause. "Would you like to see your parents again?"_

_ Harry stumbled slightly. "What?" He asked, completely shocked, his wand slipping from his grip. He only barely managed to keep holding onto it as he took another timid little step backwards._

_ "Yes, Harry," Lord Voldemort hissed. "I can arrange a reunion. I have that power," He declared dramatically. "Give me the Stone, and you can be with your family once more, until the end of time."_

_ "You're lying!" Harry shouted angrily, as he tried to take another step back and found himself incapable of movement._

_ "No. No I'm not, Harry," Voldemort replied, his tone as cold as ice. A sudden sinister smirk graced his face. "In fact, let me prove it. I can show you what I offer," He declared, staring Harry in the eyes. Harry sank back and feel to the floor, his eyes still wide, and the vision provided by the Mirror suddenly ended._

"Do you see Harry? They're back," Voldemort declared smugly. "I've given you all you've ever wanted, more than you could have ever dreamed of. Your family, whole and unbroken, pure and unsullied; an entire world without me."

"No." Harry shook his head fiercely. "No! It's not real…"

"Isn't it, Harry? I've given you your own little world; one you're the Master of. Think of it Harry, why settle for your family. You could have friends, success, love, everything… here," He whispered enticingly.

"Its not real!" Harry repeated angrily.

"What is reality? Can't you see it? Feel it? Touch it? Live it?" Voldemort whispered. "It's all here Harry. This could be the last time we ever meet. All you have to do is take charge and decide. I offer you everything you ever wanted."

Harry stared at him. And then suddenly, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw his parents, staring at him, small smiles on their faces, and his little sister, perched on his father's shoulder, waving at him. "Right there. Waiting for you. Along with your friends." Next to them appeared Ron and Hermione, his robes much less tattered and worn, and her hair much less mousy, also waving and smiling at him. "They're here. You just need to reach out… and grasp it."

Harry ripped his gaze from them and turned it back towards Voldemort. He glanced back at them, his friends, his famil- an illusion. An attractive illusion, yes, but an illusion. But he could learn to love the illusion, couldn't he. Because the love, the tenderness, his family… it was real if it let it be. Wasn't it? Or…"No," His whispered sadly, his friends and family melting away. Harry stared in horror at the spot where they'd stood just a second ago.

"No?" Voldemort asked calmly, and they all reappeared, happily, as if nothing had occurred. "Are you quite sure, Harry? In here, you have everything, can be everything, can do everything that you've ever wanted. Out there…" They faded from view once more, "You're alone. With only an old, misguided fool for company, such as he is. Are you sure?" He asked again, his family coming back into view.

"…N-…Yes," He declared finally, after several minutes of staring at them, wishing that he could surrender himself to the dream. "I'm sure. That's not my sister. They aren't my friends. Those… those aren't my parents," He concluded sadly, as if wishing he could just get past such a minor hurdle. Once more, he ripped his eyes aware from the most enticing image he'd ever laid eyes upon as their smiles faded. "Now let me go."

"I'm afraid, Harry, that you're stuck here, whether you accept my little gift or not," Voldemort snarled, all traces of his pleasant demeanor gone. His family and friends disappeared; the chamber disappeared, as it was replaced with the illusion of them stuck on top of the Astronomy Tower, violent wind whipping in his face. "You could have had it, Harry. You could have had the kind of paradise most men would kill for. But now… well, in any case, I'll simply leave you here for all eternity," And with that, Voldemort began cackling.

While he was laughing, Harry began inching closer to the edge. "Oh, I wouldn't do that Harry. But if you want to die, to simply end it all, then by all means…" Voldemort chuckled sinisterly.

Making up his mind in a split second, Harry leapt backwards and jumped off the Astronomy Tower. He felt the wind slapping his face, rushing through his ears, felt himself plummeting to the ground, and then…

* * *

He tried desperately to lift his arms and catch that damn golden Snitch. "Good to see that you're finally awake, Harry." He blinked, and then realized that the Snitch was never there. In its place stood Albus Dumbledore, as he beamed at him and his ocean-blue eyes twinkled merrily.

"I guess I am, sir. How long have I been out?" Harry asked quietly, his eyes glancing around the Hospital Wing.

"Three Days, Harry." He waved his arm to the right. "In that time, you've received many tokens from your friends and admirers. Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley will be particularly pleased to know that you've finally awoken from your sweet dreams."

"Oh, I wouldn't say they were sweet, sir," Harry replied absent-mindedly as he pulled over a chocolate frog.

"No?"

Harry bit into his candy, deciding to let his questions wait for a moment. "No," He answered finally. "I think it's safe to say that some dreams become so much better after you've finally awoken, sir." Dumbledore blinked and smiled politely, even if he had no idea what he was talking about. "After all, a wise man once told me: It does not do to dwell on dreams. Even though a part of me might have really wanted to," He admitted, with a touch of sadness in his tone. There was a blessed period of silence. And then Harry decided it was time to get some answers. "So sir, about the Stone…"

AN The 2nd: As I said at the beginning, this one-shot was inspired by a Batman: The Animated Series episode, Perchance to Dream. SPOILER: In the episode, Batman is in the middle of an investigation when he is knocked out. When he wakes up, he discovers his parents are alive, he is engaged to Selina Kyle, and the Batman niche has been filled by someone else. At the end, he confronts Batman and finds out it was the Mad Hatter who created this world, hoping to grant him a paradise so he could make his own. SPOILER END: This was originally much longer, but then it occurred to me that Batman nearly gave in to the dream, and I don't think eleven year-old Harry Potter could put up a similar fight. So I did shorten it quite a bit. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed.


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